Only Human
by windscryer
Summary: Contrary to popular belief, Shawn does know how to share. He just needs to work on his timing a little bit more. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

This was inspired both by personal experience (I played the role of Shawn, I am ashamed to say. *blushy*) and a thread over in the Psychfic forum about making the characters human by having them have just plain bad days that lead to potentially OOC behavior.

I'll let y'all decide if it worked. :D

Disclaimer: I'd poke Lassie with a stick more often if I had my druthers. Being only a fangirl, and not the owners, however, means my druthers are not being had. More's the pity. :(

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"She wants me to meet her parents, Gus."

"And?" Gus returned. "That isn't uncommon in relationships, Shawn. Especially when you've been dating her for almost nine months now."

"Yeah, but . . . Plus, she's been asking me about my plans for the future, if I've ever thought about looking for others like me and expanding the business—"

Lassiter had been trying to work at his desk, but had been forced to listen to this conversation for the last hour now—and yes, _forced_, because they were sitting right behind his desk in a couple of chairs they'd borrowed from officers out in the field right now—and he was pretty sure that if he had to listen to Spencer whine about his relationship problems for _another_ hour, he was going to pull his service weapon and open fire.

That would be bad for his career, he was pretty sure.

Why the two of them couldn't have this conversation in their _own_ office was beyond him.

"Look, Shawn, Abigail is not the kind of girl that wants to be in a dating relationship forever."

"I know, Gus, but I don't think I'm ready—or that I _want_ anything more serious. We're having fun. Why ruin it?"

Something soft and squishy hit the back of Lassiter's head.

Okay, that was it.

He turned around.

"Sorry, Lassie," Shawn said almost absently as he bent down to retrieve the rubber frog he'd been tossing from hand to hand.

"Spencer," Lassiter said in as calm a voice as he could manage, "maybe you should consider the fact that while you may be having fun, she's not dating just to have _fun_. Most people date with the intent to, eventually, get married or something similar to that. If you're not looking for anything more serious, then perhaps you should tell her that and let her decide if she wants to stay. You're not being fair to her if you continue to lead her along just because you are having _fun_."

Shawn snorted and leaned back, tossing the frog up in the air.

"Yeah, because _you_ would know about letting your significant other decide for herself if she wants to go or stay, Mr. Wouldn't-Sign-the-Divorce-Papers-Until-She-Practically-Tricked-You. If I'm looking for long-term relationship advice, you're probably not the person I'd go to, Lassie-face."

For a moment, Lassiter went deaf, and dumb, and blind.

Well, ish.

Red hazed his vision, and a roar filled his ears, and his tongue appeared to have suffered from some kind of very localized paralysis.

Then it passed.

He saw Shawn still tossing the frog, heard the squeak each time it was caught, and his tongue loosened, allowing him to utter quietly, "Get out."

Shawn stopped and looked at him.

"What?"

"Get the fuck out of here, Spencer, before I shoot you or do something else that will get me in trouble but that I won't necessarily regret."

Shawn frowned. "Lassie—"

"GET OUT!" he roared, shooting to his feet and jabbing a trembling hand toward the front of the station.

Everyone in the bullpen was frozen, eyes locked on the scene unfolding.

Shawn mimicked Lassiter's action, but not his speed as he stood.

"What the hell is your problem, _Detective_?" he asked as he pushed forward into Lassiter's personal space.

"My problem?" Lassiter repeated. "You want to know what _my_ problem is?"

Gus' eyes flicked between the two of them, then he inched forward and put a hand on Shawn's shoulder.

"Maybe we should go, Shawn," he said quietly.

"No, Gus, I don't think we should. Lassiter was just about to—"

"_Shawn_," O'Hara's voice said sharply from over by her desk. Her heels clicked loudly in the near-silence of the room as she approached, stopping just far enough away to not crowd the already tense group, but close enough to be of assistance should it turn physical. "I think you need to go."

Shawn spared a glance for her, then sniffed, lip curling as his eyes returned to Lassiter's stone face. "Whatever. Come on, Gus."

He stalked out, Gus in tow sharing worried looks with O'Hara.

When the front door closed behind them, Lassiter let his eyes close as well. His hands were curled into fists that now trembled at his sides.

"Carlton—" O'Hara started to say.

"I'm taking some personal time, O'Hara," he interrupted. "I'll be back in one hour and we will go over the witness statements."

There was no question, but she replied anyway. "Yeah, okay." She looked like she wanted to say something else, but just shook her head and retreated to her desk.

Slowly the sounds of the station resumed as he counted off his breaths in his head, waiting for the mass of emotions roiling in his head to calm enough that he could unclench his hands.

He grabbed his jacket and left then, resolutely shutting out the world around himself as he climbed in his car and drove away from the station.

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Review, plz&thx. Next chappie will be up sooner if I know you want it!


	2. Chapter 2

"That was harsh, Shawn."

"I know! Can you believe it? He totally just jumped all over me for no reason at all!"

Gus shot a sidelong glare at his friend.

"I wasn't talking about him. I was talking about you."

Shawn stopped pacing in the middle of the office.

"What?"

"I was talking about what you said to _him_._"_

"What, that he's not exactly an expert on how to keep a relationship going? That's the truth, Gus."

"Maybe so, but you could have put it more tactfully. Or, just not mentioned it at all."

Shawn snorted. "Look, it's not my fault that he's got a stick up his ass about it."

"No, but it is your fault that you ripped that stick out and beat him upside the head with it."

Shawn's face scrunched. "Okay, for the record, that is an absolutely disgusting visual image there. Thank you."

"Shawn," Gus said. "You need to apologize."

Shawn's eyes widened. "_Apologize_? I need to _apologize_? For what? Being brutally honest? He wasn't even involved in our conversation, Gus! I didn't _ask_ for his advice."

Gus eyed Shawn warily.

"What?" Shawn snapped after a moment.

"Speaking of sticks and asses, have you checked your own lately?"

"What? Gus, what the hell are you talking about?"

"You're not yourself, today, Shawn. You've been grumpy and whiny all day."

"Oh, so what? Now you're on Lassiter's side?"

"No. I'm not on _any_ side, Shawn. But something is bothering you and—"

"Nothing is bothering me!"

"Really? So you normally go around pissing off armed officers of the law who don't like you on a good day?"

Shawn arched an eyebrow. "Yes, actually. Have you been here since we started this business?"

Gus rolled his eyes.

"Okay, fine. But normally you're not quite so . . ."

"Accurate? Vindicated? Totally within reas—"

"Much of an ass about it." Gus made a face. "Well, actually, you are, but . . ." He shook his head. "You're not deliberately vicious. Not like today."

Shawn sighed and dropped into his chair.

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm having a bad day," he muttered, picking at imaginary lint on his jeans.

Gus' eyebrows went up. "Oh, really? I hadn't noticed."

Shawn sighed again and let his head fall back.

"It's just . . ."

"It's just what?"

Shawn's head stayed where it was, but his eyes came down from staring at the ceiling to meet Gus' before continuing on down to his fingers drumming on his desk.

"Abby dumped me."

Gus frowned. "She _dumped_ you? As in, past tense?"

"Yeah. Last night."

"So that whole conversation in the station—"

Shawn shrugged. "I dunno. I guess I was trying to figure out what I did wrong."

Gus snorted. "Do you want the bulleted list or the Cliff Notes?"

Shawn sighed. "Neither? Can't we just pretend it was her?"

Gus shrugged now. "Sure. As long as you don't mind repeating the whole experience over and over and over again with every girl you try to actually date for more than a single night out."

Shawn was silent, brooding, as he considered his tapping fingers.

"I need to go." He stood and slipped into his jacket, heading for the door.

"Shawn, wait," Gus said and stood.

Shawn paused in the door and looked back. "I'm fine, Gus, I'm not going to do anything dumb. I just need . . . some air. I'm gonna take a ride on my bike. I'll be back later, okay?"

"Supernatural starts at nine," Gus said, a subtle reminder that however much of an ass Shawn was, Gus still wanted to hang out with him.

Shawn waved a hand and disappeared out the door.

A rev of his engine and he was gone.

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Review, plz&thx.


	3. Chapter 3

*sniff* Another story come to an end.

*dramatic sigh*

Well, now I have time for those others I'm supposed to be writing! :D

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Shawn had left his destination deliberately vague. If Gus knew what he was planning to do, he never would have let him out of the office.

Truth be told, after the display in the station, it probably _was_ as suicidal as Gus would have declared it, if he'd known.

But Shawn also knew it needed to be done.

So he made one stop, carefully tucking his prize into his backpack, and then continued on to his final destination.

Which would hopefully be less final than that made it sound.

He wasn't at all surprised to see the lone figure standing in the shadows of the boardwalk.

Psychic or not, he knew his coworkers well enough to know that this was the place Lassiter would come.

He approached cautiously, knowing that a bullet in his leg—or between his eyes—wasn't _totally_ an impossibility. Even if it was highly unlikely.

"Go away, Spencer."

It wasn't angry anymore, just tired, resigned . . . perhaps a bit morose.

"If you want me to, I will. I promise. But before I do—"

An even wearier and more resigned sigh was exhaled as Lassiter let his head fall back against the piling he was leaning against.

"Please," he said.

Shawn winced at the rawness of it.

For all the differences between them, he'd never meant, never intended, to bring Lassiter down to this level.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

There was no sound for a long, long moment, except the waves and the gulls and the people up above, but then neither man was paying any attention to those.

Finally Lassiter turned. "What?" he said.

"I'm sorry," Shawn repeated, then licked his lips. This was harder than he'd expected, and the furrowed half-glare/half-incredulity on Lassiter's face wasn't helping.

"For, what I said. Back at the station." He suddenly, awkwardly, thrust his arm out, offering the clear plastic bakery box. "Um, this is for you."

Lassiter stared at it, confusion having won out and now dominating his expression.

"Spencer—"

"Look," Shawn said, "I know that I shouldn't have said it. And this doesn't make up for it or change the fact that I did. The truth is, it wasn't about you. You were just a handy scapegoat and I took advantage of that and used my superpowers for evil. Which actually makes it worse, I know. But . . . I'd hate for this to permanently ruin our friendship and—"

Lassiter snorted. "What friendship? I don't even like you." But he took the box and opened it up, pinching off a piece of one of the chocolate-covered pecan fritters inside. He ate it, savoring the delicious gooey confection, then lifted the box. "How the hell did you know I like these? Not even O'Hara knows."

Shawn offered a half smile, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Lucky guess?"

Lassiter snorted again. "Whatever." He ate another bite.

"So . . ." Shawn said, feeling still very much awkward and unsure if it was safe for him to show up at the station again.

"Go away, Spencer."

That would be a no then. Okay. It would complicate things, certainly, but—

"I have forty-five minutes left to enjoy these and I do _not_ want to do so in your company." He shot a look at Shawn. "Shoo," he said and waved a hand.

Shawn caught the look in his eye though, and grinned.

Lassiter still didn't really like him. Shawn was still an ass for what he'd said.

But, well, maybe he hadn't totally screwed things up after all.

He turned to leave.

"And Spencer?"

He stopped and looked back, shading his eyes from the sun he was now standing in.

"Yeah?"

"Even with my . . . lack of expertise, I can tell you that you don't have to _date_ a girl to have fun with her. You only have to be her friend."

Shawn considered that with tilted head, then nodded. "Fair enough. Thanks."

He turned and left, feeling . . . well, actually, still pretty crappy. But the day hadn't been a total loss.

He'd take that for now.

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THUH. END.

Review, plz&thx!


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